Between The Wars
by ShesLikeStardust
Summary: It's been 2 months since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D./HYDRA and Rebecca Callahan has taken out her PI license. Inbetween cases, Rebecca is devoting her time to helping Captain Steve Rogers in finding the elusive Winter Soldier. But Rebecca's shady past is about to come back to haunt her and she's going to need Steve's help if she wants to make it out alive.(Sequel to Let The River Run)
1. Prologue

**Between the Wars**

Post The Winter Soldier/Pre Age of Ultron

**Prologue: Lost in Memories**

_Between the wars we'll stay_

_Fading echoes spin away_

_Lost in memories_

_Lost in memories_

**-Allman Brown**

On the last day she'd seen her mother, the weather had been sunny, bright and mild in temperature; in other words, perfect. Since the weather in Ireland was often overcast, drizzling or pouring rain, Rebecca O'Riley was making the most of it, lying outside on a blanket in the grass, reading Pride and Prejudice and occasionally sipping on the iced tea she'd brought out with her.

She was also valiantly ignoring Seamus Gallagher lurking several yards away, scowling like some stone gargoyle while she lazed about. Seamus hated guard duty and was often vocal about it, to everyone but Declan O'Riley, a Captain of the Real Irish Republican Army. It was Declan who'd given him the guard post that day, to make sure nothing happened to his fifteen-year-old daughter. Though what could happen on the front lawn of the latest O'Riley home remained a mystery to her.

"Becky!" The clear lyrical voice of her mother rang out from the front of the cheerful cottage they currently lived in.

Rebecca set her book aside, shading her eyes until she could see her mother clearly. Siobhan O'Riley was ethereally beautiful. Her skin was smooth and pale as porcelain, except for the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her hair cascaded down her back like waves of fire and she had the slender, willowy build her daughter had inherited, as well as the dreamy green Irish eyes. But Rebecca had her father's darker coloring, so instead of looking like a faerie straight out of Irish lore, she was just a skinny girl who wished she had the presence to command attention like Siobhan O'Riley 'nee Callahan.

"Mom," Rebecca sat up when Siobhan crouched down beside her. "Everything okay?"

It was a loaded question. As she grew older, Siobhan could no longer hide the truth of their situation from her daughter. Declan O'Riley didn't just have friends staying over to help them out and look after them when he was gone. He had soldiers, who carried out his orders that often left blood on their hands. Rebecca's father wasn't the man he pretended to be with his daughter; doting, attentive and kind. He was, in fact ruthless, cruel and a murderer.

He'd been behind a bombing recently that had Rebecca sick to the point of vomiting for nearly forty-eight hours. There had been children caught in the crossfire, all dead because of her father's need to rebuke the Republic of Ireland.

It had been too much for Siobhan as well. She'd come to Rebecca in the middle of the night in the days following the bombing to tell her they would be leaving her father and soon. Her mother's brother Finn, whom she hadn't spoken to in years had finally made contact. He'd set up a safe house for them in Italy. He'd be waiting for them when they stopped in Galway and would smuggle them out from right under Declan's nose.

"I'm going into town for supplies. We need food for supper tonight," Siobhan stroked a hand over her daughter's hair. It was not often she wore it loose, usually tied back in a tail or a braid. "Do you need anything while I'm gone?"

"Rhubarb and Custards?" Rebecca asked hopefully. They'd always been her favorite sweeties and she'd had a hankering for them lately.

Siobhan laughed. "I think I can arrange that. I'm going to make beef and sweet potato stew for supper tonight but I need fixings for soda bread."

Rebecca almost began to salivate. Her mother made the best stews. "I cannot wait."

Siobhan kissed the top of her head and then looked over at Seamus. "Take care of me favorite Lassie Seamus, will you? She's me heart and soul."

Seamus grunted but gave her mother a nod. Rebecca rolled her eyes only because she knew he couldn't see her face.

"I'll be back soon," Siobhan promised, rising up to her feet. "Don't stay out in the sun too long, your skin will burn."

"Just a little longer," Rebecca assured her. "Then I'll take this inside."

Siobhan looked appeased and started back towards the drive, where Fergal Dungan, her father's second in command, waited to drive her into town. Before she got into the little sedan, Siobhan turned and waved to Rebecca, blowing her a cheeky kiss, which Rebecca returned with a laugh.

She had no idea that would be the last time she'd ever see Siobhan again.

Even after his arrest, Declan O'Riley had never confessed to the murder of his wife. She was still considered a missing person since her body was never found. He'd told Rebecca when she'd grown worried about her mother's absence that Siobhan had run off with another man and left them behind.

Rebecca hadn't believed him. They'd had a plan. They were going to leave together, Siobhan would not have left her behind. And, when Finn Callahan was discovered dead in his hotel room in Galway, Rebecca was sure her father had discovered their escape plan and had Fergal do something horrific to her mother.

What Declan hadn't planned on was he'd set the wheels into motion of his own downfall, at the hands of the daughter he'd deceived.

* * *

**A/N: This story is going jump forward to post Captain America: The Winter Soldier, but pre Avengers: Age of Ultron. This story is a Sequel to my other fic, Let The River Run, which sets the stage for this one and explains Rebecca's connection to Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, who will be used the most frequently in this fic, obviously. You don't have to read Let The River Run, but I recommend it if you want to fully understand what's going on. **

**We're going to jump forward to present day in Chapter One. So stay tuned and if you have time, please review and let me know what you think! Enjoy!**


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One: Rebecca Callahan, PI**

_Fourteen Years Later…_

"So?" Rebecca Callahan gestured around the cramped space with pride. "What do you think? And before you say anything, yes I know it's the size of a walk-in closet but it's all I can afford right now."

The dubious snort that came from the man at her side made her frown. In the two months following the downfall of Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, Sam Wilson had become her closest friend. Rebecca had been an Agent for S.H.I.E.L.D. for almost a decade, having gone to their Academy for training after her father's arrest. She'd proved to be an excellent spy and tracked S.H.I.E.L.D. targets and threats all over the world. Her father had been a terrorist and Rebecca had made it her life's mission to fight terrorism under the guise of S.H.I.E.L.D. not knowing that the greatest terrorist regime in the world had been growing like a parasite inside the World's Largest Counter-Terrorism Agency.

When S.H.I.E.L.D. had gone down with HYDRA two months ago, Rebecca had lost everything; her career, her income, her friends, David had been turned to become part of HYDRA and now rotted in prison and Nora, distraught over what happened, moved out to the West Coast to be with her family. Rebecca had been left standing in the ashes of her life that had burned to the ground.

She hadn't regretted the decision to help take S.H.I.E.L.D. down though. HYDRA had been planning a mass genocide of anyone who would oppose them, using the helicarriers S.H.I.E.L.D. thought they had been creating for global security. Rebecca had joined forces with Captain America and the Black Widow, also former Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., to stop them and they'd recruited Sam, a former pararescue soldier. They'd taken down the helicarriers, sent the HYDRA rats that hadn't gone down with their ship, fleeing and essentially saved the world from global domination.

But in the aftermath, Rebecca had been left unemployed, with not a lot of options open in other government agencies. Her savings weren't going to cover her rent forever, so she'd taken the advice of an old S.H.I.E.L.D. acquaintance, took out a private investigator's license and had just opened the doors to her office, tiny as it was, for business. Rebecca Callahan. P.I.

"Beck," Sam shook his head in disbelief. "You can't even move around in here." He looked unconvinced of her base of operations.

"Sure I can!" Rebecca slapped her palm against the double pedestal steel desk she'd bought at a flea market and managed to wrangle inside. "It even fits a desk."

Sam gave her a look that clearly translated that he thought she was crazy. "That's about all it fits."

"Not true, it also fits a couple of chairs and filing cabinet." She pointed out the objects she spoke of. "Besides, it's not as if I'm going to be spending a lot of time in the office anyway. Part of being a P.I. is doing actual legwork."

"Well hey, it's your office." Sam held up his hands in defeat. "If you're happy with it, then congratulations."

"Thank you." Rebecca gave a little bow. "Now I just need to get some actual clients and cases to work on."

"Technically-" Sam started but Rebecca cut him off with a shake of her head.

"I know, I know, I'm still working on _that_ case," She assured him. "But my last lead went cold. And it's not going to pay my rent."

"My leads went cold too." Sam reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "It's like the toughest game of Where's Waldo I ever played."

"Except we're really playing Where's the Most Lethal Assassin in the World whom I didn't believe existed until very recently." Rebecca sighed. "Then again, no one said working for Captain America would be easy."

"Plus, he's in New York almost as much as he's here with Avenger's duties." Sam frowned, trying to remember what had Steve Rogers out of town these days.

"Duty calls when you're a Superhero, not a lot of downtime." Rebecca shrugged. "And hey, when the God of Thunder makes contact because something's brewing, what's Steve supposed to do, say no?"

"Hey," Sam chuckled. "I'm more than happy to leave the Avenging to Steve. Like you said, between our missing person's case and my work at the V.A. I've got enough on my plate."

"Speaking of plates," Rebecca grinned at him. "I'm starving. Since you're technically on your lunch break, let's go eat."

"Girl," Sam's expression mirrored hers. "You read my mind."

* * *

Later that night, Rebecca had a manilla folder open on her countertop, its contents spread out for her to study while she sipped on a mug of hot tea and listened with half an ear as Nora Matheson, her old friend and co-worker from S.H.I.E.L.D. filled her in on her new life working in IT out in San Francisco.

Nora sounded lighter, happier than she had when she left. Rebecca knew she'd been in love with their other friend David for years and his betrayal had hit her especially hard. Rebecca missed her but didn't begrudge her friend for leaving and starting over. Besides, finding the Winter Soldier kept her plenty busy and she had Sam's friendship to keep from feeling lonely. She almost hated to admit that she'd felt closer to Sam in recent months than she had in the years she'd been friends with Nora. Plus, they were both working on finding Bucky for Steve.

All the information in front of her had come from Natasha Romanoff's connections in Kiev. Somehow, the how wasn't exactly clear, James Buchanan Barnes, one of the Howling Commandos and Steve's oldest friend had survived his fall from a HYDRA train, losing his left arm in the process. He was captured by HYDRA, who gave him a cybernetic limb and brainwashed him into becoming the Winter Soldier. He would become a renowned assassin over the next several decades, many believing him to be a ghost story because he'd been put into cryogenic stasis to preserve his longevity between missions.

They had him so gone he hadn't even recognized Steve, his childhood best friend or the sound of his own name. Now Steve was bound and determined to save him and Rebecca and Sam had agreed to help him.

"So enough about me," Nora's cheerful voice sounded from the speakerphone on Rebecca's cell. "What's new in your world?"

"Opened my P.I. office today. It's basically a glorified closet, Sam hates it, but the doors are open for business." Rebecca told her, still pouring over the same information she'd gone over hundreds of times, hoping to find something she'd missed.

"That's great! You'll be pulling in clients before you know it!" Nora exclaimed. "And speaking of Sam, are you two dating yet or what?"

"What?" Thoroughly startled by her friend's question, Rebecca tore her eyes away from Bucky's military headshot from the 40s. "Me and Sam?" She laughed incredulously. "It's not like that!"

"Why not? You spend time almost all your time with him these days and he seems to make you happy," Nora pointed out. "And I saw him before I left. He sure is a whole lot of tall, dark and handsome."

"He's my friend. Hell, he feels like my partner after everything went down at the Triskelion." Rebecca informed her. "It's not like that. He's also got a huge crush on the girl who works the front desk at the V.A. with him."

"Rebecca," Nora sighed on the other end of the line. "I worry about you sometimes. Do you ever feel anything for anyone? You don't date. You don't even fool around between missions. Every guy you come across is either co-worker or friend. Are you a lesbian? Because you can tell me, it doesn't change anything for me."

"I'm not gay, Nora," Rebecca told her dryly, rolling her eyes even though she knew her friend could not see her.

"Well, I had to ask like I said you don't date." Nora pointed out. "Are you asexual? Because that's okay too. I'm just wondering if you ever feel weak-kneed attraction for well, anyone."

A brief unbidden image of her looking back at Steve Rogers from over her shoulder in front of the Triskelion, him telling her he believed in her too, flashed through her mind. She shook the thought away almost as quickly as it had come.

"I was always too busy to date. Too many missions to stick around long enough to make one work and then it was trying to find a new career." Rebecca told her. "I haven't had the time."

"Well, you should make the time, Rebecca," Nora told her quietly, her voice serious. "You deserve to take some time for yourself, be happy, not focus on saving the world every single second. It's not like you joined the Avengers. You're not Natasha Romanoff, you're Rebecca Callahan, P.I. with a semi-normal job."

"Well tell you what," Rebecca knew Nora meant well, but the last thing she needed was to think about her love life or lack of one. "As soon as I meet someone, you'll be the first to know."

* * *

It had been fourteen long years since Declan O'Riley had set foot in his homeland. Fourteen years since he'd smelled the grass and clover felt the misty breeze on his face and heard the faerie song on the wind. He hadn't a pint of Guinness or a crumb of soda bread, just the blandest, most basic of foods as he rotted in a small square whitewashed cell in Bright Light, the CIA's High Detainee Prison in Bucharest, Romania.

He'd only seen the outside of those walls when Agent Everett Ross came in to interrogate him before he was sent back to that cell with only his thoughts for company. Most of his Lieutenants letters were confiscated, they'd had to be creative in their correspondence and he'd been aggrieved to learn the Real IRA was floundering in his absence, Alan Ryan and Peter Butterly dead. Shot down like dogs, the waste of resources and leadership, and all he could think was that if his ungrateful, blood traitor daughter had not-

It was no use to think such thoughts. He was home now. Seamus Gallagher and Fergal Dungan had seized his prison transport, killing the guards escorting him to a high-security prison now that the CIA had no use for him. He was free again and could get the Real IRA back on its feet.

"Sir?" Seamus knocked on the door to the office they'd set up for him. His men had procured a Safe House just outside Belfast. They'd had a meal fit for a king waiting for him and he'd been able to don real clothing, trousers, and a knit sweater, instead of the shapeless drab he'd been forced to wear day after day.

Declan turned away from the window, where he'd been looking out at the green of Ireland, enjoying a view so long denied to him. "Did you find her?"

"Not yet, Sir. But we'll keep looking." Seamus nodded. "About Rebecca-"

"Rebecca will be seen to. Blood calls to blood after all." Declan interrupted him. "In fact, why don't you reach out to Michelle Scicluna at the Black Air. I believe she still owes me a favor, or two."

"Yes, Sir."


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two: Tequila**

After her first week with her doors open for business, Rebecca decided all the TV shows and movies depicting P.I. work as glamorous was full of crap. Several people had come in to see her, the most interesting being a young college student trying to find her father who had abandoned her when she was six, but the majority of the people who hired her wanted proof of their cheating spouses.

"It's kind of depressing this many people cheat on each other," Rebecca complained to Sam over drinks at a bar close to her apartment, called Archer's. "Do vows really mean nothing anymore? Why even bother getting married?"

"Depends on the person taking them, I think." Sam took a sip of his beer, a local brew they had on tap. "Hey, cheating spouse cases are a P.I.'s bread and butter."

"Great, I stalk pay by the hour motels to pay my bills. I used to chase real criminals across the globe." Rebecca rolled her eyes, then sat back against the chair of the high top table they sat at. "So while I'm glad you called to hang out tonight, I figured you'd be out trying to score a second date with the front desk girl you've been hot for."

Sam groaned and ran a hand over his face at the mention of his love interest. "You know how people say when something seems too good to be true, it probably is? They are right."

Rebecca couldn't help but laugh, her curiosity piqued at his reaction. "What happened?"

"The date was going great you know? She's cute, she's has a great sense of humor, we are having a good back and forth conversation then we get to the restaurant." He began to explain. "She's having trouble finding anything to order. So our waitress asks if she's vegan."

"Is she?" Rebecca liked a good steak from time to time herself, so she never fully understood people who could live off a plant-based diet by choice instead of for health reasons.

"No, and I would have probably been ok with it if she was." Sam shook his head. "She's a Rawist."

"What the hell is a Rawist?" Now she was utterly confused, having never heard the term in her life.

"She only eats raw food. Doesn't believe in eating meat, or anything cooked." Sam informed her. "She must exist solely on salads."

"Wait, she literally only eats raw fruits and vegetables? How does she survive?" She gaped at him in surprise. "I would be hungry and pissed off all the time."

"That was probably why she thought I was the devil incarnate for ordering a steak," He shrugged helplessly. "Because she was hungry."

"People are so weird." Rebecca mused with an astounded shake of her head. "Sorry, Sam I know you were really into her. Hopefully, the next woman you take on a date turns out better."

"Eh, guess it just wasn't meant to be." He waved off her sympathy. "At least the band is good tonight, the drinks are strong and I'm in much better company."

"I like steak." She grinned. "And cooked food in general."

"Thank God!"

"Can I get you guys another round?" Their waitress checked in on them just as Sam's phone went off with an incoming text message.

"Yes, he needs it," Rebecca answered for him.

"Better add a third beer to that," Sam added, smiling down at his phone. "We're about to have company."

"Not your new rawist girlfriend, I hope?" She teased as their waitress left to carry out their order. "Because the evidence of our devoured chicken wings is still on the table."

"Don't you start getting sassy with me about that," Sam warned her with a smirk. "One day you'll have a terrible date and payback will be a bitch."

"That would require me to actually date, Wilson." Rebecca reminded him smugly. "I'm happily single, thank you very much."

"Yeah, and you just ran out of excuses for that since your P.I. business is up and running and you no longer work for S.H.I.E.L.D. It's time to put yourself back out there." Sam teased her. "No time like the present. We're in a bar."

"Jeez! First Nora, now you." She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "When will you all realize Becky don't need no man!" She snapped her fingers dramatically making Sam laugh.

"Clearly I came in at the wrong part of this conversation."

Rebecca twisted in her seat at the sound of the voice speaking from behind her. The deeper, more masculine tenor it carried an obvious sign that it was not their returning waitress.

"Steve!" She exclaimed in surprise, the beginnings of a pleased smile curving the corners of her mouth as she dropped her playful demeanor. "You're back!"

Steve Rogers stood casually behind her chair, looking very much like every other male bar patron in a simple t-shirt and jeans, though he arguably filled them out better with his six-foot frame that was kept in peak physical condition. He offered them both a smile but the shadows under his blue eyes hinted at his exhaustion.

"Hey Man!" Sam got up to greet him with one of those handshakes pulled into a hug gestures men like to use.

Rebecca skipped the handshake and went straight for the hug when they separated. "It's good to see you."

Steve held her against him for a moment before releasing her. "You guys too. Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," Sam assured him. "You're saving me from Beck's sass."

Rebecca grinned in response. "Someone has to keep Sam humble." She gestured to the empty chair at their table. "Come join us, Sam already ordered you a beer."

"Thanks." He lowered his frame onto the stool and waited for them to retake their seats before speaking again. "I take it there's nothing new since the last time I spoke to you both."

"My leads went cold, Man," Sam told him apologetically.

"Same, I'm working on it though," Rebecca assured him, knowing how important it was to him. "As soon as we find something new, we'll let you know. How's everything in New York?"

"Hit a dead end." Steve sighed, running a hand through his short blonde hair. "Bruce and Tony are in the lab researching, Nat's hitting her own network of resources and Thor, well-" He shrugged, not knowing how to explain the Norse God's course of action. "Hawkeye and I are left twiddling our thumbs until something new pops up. I figured I'd come back here, check in with you two."

"You're welcome to crash at my place," Sam offered. "I've got a spare bedroom. I'm not sure how you left things with your apartment."

"I don't really have one here anymore. S.H.I.E.L.D. arranged it for me when I signed on and then-" He trailed off as they all knew what happened next. "Stark Tower is home for the time being. I appreciate the room."

"What are friends for," Sam assured him. "You should check out Beck's new office while you're in town, it'll only take you two seconds it's the size of a closet."

"Stop!" Rebecca laughed, tossing one of the napkins left on the table at him.

"Are you up and running then?" Steve asked her, ignoring Sam's joking barb and giving her a curious smile.

"Got my license a month ago, found an office space and opened doors this week. I even have a couple of cases, though they're nothing exciting. Most trying to catch married couples having affairs." She informed him. "Still, it's a start."

"That's great! Congratulations." There was nothing but sincerity in Steve's tone and it made her smile genuinely in response.

"We need shots." Sam decided suddenly. "We're all here, together, not currently risking our lives. We should celebrate."

"I only do tequila shots. Patron preferably." Rebecca shook her finger at Sam. "And if I get drunk we will shut this place down because you will not get me off that dance floor."

Sam started laughing. "That's not a warning Callahan. That's an incentive."

"I can't actually get drunk," Steve told them with a shrug. "So I guess I can make sure we all make it home."

"You can't get drunk at all?" Rebecca asked him incredulously.

"One of the side effects of the serum," Steve explained. "My metabolism is so fast it counteracts the effect of alcohol almost immediately."

"So he's never at risk for getting fat either." Rebecca scoffed. "That is so unfair. He could eat 20 pizzas and drink the bar and not gain an ounce."

"Then I guess Beck and I will be the only ones making asses of ourselves." Sam chuckled at her dramatics. "Tequila shots it is." He lifted a hand to flag down their waitress. "Let's have some fun."

* * *

"Sir?" Maria Hill knocked hesitantly on the door of Nick Fury's office. The only remaining S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier was currently docked outside Madrid, Spain and was quiet for the evening.

"Hill." Nick looked up from the tablet he'd been browsing through and nodded to show his permission for her to enter the space.

"We just got some news from Dublin." Maria's expression appeared to neutral and detached to anyone who didn't know her well, but Nick recognized her minor facial ticks that gave away her distaste.

"What kind of news?" Nick prompted, setting the tablet aside to give her his full attention.

"Declan O'Riley had been released from Bright Light and was on a transport to Portlaoise Prison but the IRA intercepted the transport. Took out the drivers and the guards escorting it." Hill didn't flinch when Fury slammed his fist on the desk.

"Tell me, he's not in the wind, Hill?" Fury growled out. "Tell me, Declan O'Riley did not escape."

"I'm sorry Sir," Maria shook her head. "Declan O'Riley is officially listed as an escaped convict and presumed to be back among the IRA and resuming his duties as a Captain."

"Damn it." Nick hissed out a breath. "Who ordered his removal from Bright Light? Who thought that was a good idea?"

"Agent Everett Ross, Sir. He cited in his report that he felt Declan O'Riley no longer had any valuable information."

"And played right into the IRA's hands. We need to find him, Hill and fast." Fury ordered. "He just became our number one priority. A lot of people will die if he is back in power. And we need to warn his first target."

"I'll get word to Callahan," Maria assured him.

"That kid has been through enough." Nick sighed. "This is the last thing she needs."

* * *

Pete Wisdom was growing to despise his job. He'd joined the Black Air with good intentions, but lately, every assignment he'd been given was a wetwork. The target Scicluna had sent him that morning was an Irish woman currently living in America. A reason why had not been given. As he poured over the file, he couldn't help the uneasy feeling in his gut.

Rebecca Callahan 'ne O'Riley. Age 29. Hair dark brown, eyes green. Located in Washington, D.C. occupation as a Private Investigator. Formerly an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Nothing stood out about this woman being dangerous. Unless she'd been associated with HYDRA and the Black Air had discovered it but it didn't say so in her file. It was basic information assigned as a wetwork when Shrine had dropped it off.

"Good looking Bird though," Pete mused to himself, studying the candid photo that had come along with the file.

Rebecca Callahan was an unassuming beauty. She wasn't a knockout that a man noticed as soon as he walked into a room. She was more understated, someone noticed after rounds of the room had been made and one had settled in for the conversation. When looked at properly, a man would notice the smooth angles of her face, the dreamy deep-set eyes, wonder what all that dark hair looked like free from its ponytail.

Pete would have to snuff the life out of her and the thought made him ill. "Bloody hell."

* * *

Rebecca Callahan was beautiful.

The thought made Steve a little uncomfortable as he watched her dance around the hardwood floor in form-fitting jeans and a Serotta t-shirt. Her dark hair tumbled in waves around her smiling face, making her appear softer, more alluring. And for a moment he wished he knew how to dance in order to be out there with her because he wasn't the only man who'd noticed.

It wasn't the first time Steve had noticed either but it was the first time he truly recognized the draw he'd always felt towards Rebecca since the day she'd stepped off that elevator outside Pierce's office; attraction.

They'd been so busy running and fighting for their lives after they'd met it'd been easy to ignore it. But looking at her now, a little drunk and happy on the dancefloor, he couldn't deny it.

When he'd woken up from his ice coma and came to terms with how many years had passed, Steve had to grieve the loss of what could have been with Peggy. Peggy Carter was not a woman easily forgotten. Even visiting her in the retirement home had stirred his memories of the sharp, fearless British spy determined to do good in the world. Steve had thought he'd found the woman he'd spend the rest of his life with. Instead, he'd woken up to find she'd lived that life without him, married a man named Daniel Sousa, had children, founded S.H.I.E.L.D. and left her mark on the world.

And even though Natasha had been urging Steve to date, the simple fact was that there was no one like Peggy and he'd been resigned to accept his eternal bachelorhood.

Until Rebecca.

Peggy and Rebecca had a lot in common on the surface. Neither were American, though her training at S.H.I.E.L.D. had mostly erased Rebecca's Irish accent. Both were determined to do the right thing and help people. They both were excellent shots with a sidearm, brave in the face of danger and didn't take crap from anyone. But where Peggy had been impulsive and occasionally prone to fits of passion, Rebecca was more reserved and calculating. Peggy hadn't been afraid to cut a man down to size with a tongue lashing, Rebecca did it through her actions. Peggy was stubborn where Rebecca was open to suggestion and Peggy had commanded attention while Rebecca conformed to her surroundings.

"Steve, come dance!" He was shaken out of his thoughts when she slid right in front him, smiling and holding her hand out in invitation.

He cleared his throat. "I don't really dance, Beck."

"At all?" Confusion flashed across her features.

"I don't really know how." He admitted, not wanting to disappoint her. "No one wants to dance with the little guy and then the War, and now…" He trailed off. "I've just never had the right partner."

"Oh." Understanding dawned in her green eyes and he watched her take a mental step back. "Well then…"

"Maybe you could teach me, sometime?" No one was more surprised than Steve when the words slipped out of his mouth. It hadn't been what he'd meant to say, but the last thing in the world he had wanted to do was push her away. He couldn't even blame it on the tequila since the alcohol had no lasting effect on him.

She looked surprised for a moment, then she smiled again and the angles of her face softened and his heart twisted. "Sure.

"We need another round!" And just like that, Sam's arrival broke the magic of the moment and Rebecca elbowed him playfully in the ribs.

"You're going to be carrying me out of here." She protested.

"I think we'll be carrying Sam at the rate he's going," Steve assured her with a chuckle.

"Lies!" Sam jabbed his finger in Steve's direction. "Just because I can actually get drunk unlike _some_ people, doesn't mean I'm actually drunk!"

Rebecca let out a peal of laughter and Steve's heart did another twist in his chest. "You're right, he's definitely going to be the one carried out."

"Traitor!"


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three: Not So Good News**

Rebecca woke up lying on her stomach crossways on her full-size bed, still in the jeans and t-shirt, she'd worn the night before. She'd hadn't made it under the covers. There was a dull ache behind her eyes, a reminder of all the alcohol she'd consumed the night before and the crusty feeling on her lids was evidence she hadn't washed the makeup off her face either.

She pushed up off her bed and stumbled her way into the adjoining bathroom, turning her shower on to her preferred temperature setting before turning to brush her teeth while the water warmed up. She went through the rest of her morning routine as if it were any other day, only swallowing two aspirin to thwart the headache.

Freshly scrubbed and in clean jeans and a red tank top, she headed out towards the living area. She paused once she left her room, chuckling softly in amusement when she saw Sam passed out snoring loudly on her couch, his frame a bit too long for the furniture so his legs draped off the end of it. She entertained the idea of snapping a photo on her phone for future teasing evidence then changed her mind and continued toward the kitchen. Sam had way more than she had last night and no doubt would have a stronger hangover, a big greasy breakfast was in order.

The smell of coffee reached her first and she was startled to find Steve in her small kitchen, pulling three ceramic mugs out of one of her cabinets. On the counter beside her coffee maker was a grease-stained paper bag with the Deli down the block's logo stamped across the front.

"Someone got an early start," She commented, giving him a rueful smile when he looked over at her. "Thanks for babysitting last night."

"You didn't need a babysitter," Steve passed her a mug. "In fact, you were the one who insisted we all crash here since Sam was the one who overindulged."

She had a vague recollection of Sam flopping face first on her couch last night and promptly snoring. She laughed and said, "Please tell me you took the spare room and not the floor?"

"I would have been fine with the floor," He told her. "But you ordered me to the spare room before you went to your own and I figured it was best not to argue with you."

"Smart man." Rebecca chuckled and began fixing her coffee how she liked it. Steve did the same beside her and for a moment there was a comfortable silence between them.

"I picked up sandwiches at the deli, figured neither of you would feel up for doing much. Though you seem to be doing okay." Steve commented after taking a long sip of coffee.

"I cut myself off after a certain point. I don't mind a buzz but," She shrugged, knowing if anyone was going to understand her reasoning it would be the man before her. "I don't like the feeling of being out of control, especially not of my own actions. I need to be coherent. Maybe that's the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in me but,"

"I get it." He assured her. "Can't protect yourself if you're too drunk to even stand up properly."

"Exactly." She opened the deli bag and grinned. "Bacon, egg, and cheese huh? You're pretty close to perfect, Rogers."

* * *

Clint Barton's skill set had never really extended to the technology department. He had the basics down, a requirement of any Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. but he'd leave the Advanced stuff to guys like Tony and even to an extent, Natasha. Clint was a Marksman, he preferred being in the thick of things and this lull in the hunt for Loki's missing scepter was aggravating for him. Stark and Banner were taking point at the moment, trying to find their next move. And unlike Steve, who could jet to D.C. and check in on more personal matters, Clint was left in Stark Tower twiddling his thumbs.

He'd been relieved when the encrypted message from Hill had come in, then grateful when Tony's technology had made the decryption process twice if not three times as fast as it would have taken him on his own.

_Barton, _

_Disturbing news from Ireland. Must get a message to Rebecca Callahan. Declan O'Riley has escaped custody and is in the wind. Every reason to believe Callahan is a target. Warn her._

_Maria Hill_

"Well shit." Barton cursed out loud as he read the message. He'd been there nearly a decade ago when S.H.I.E.L.D. had stormed the O'Riley compound, apprehending highly ranked members of the IRA. He'd been pretty fresh out of the Academy himself, and had joined Fury on that mission, happy to assist in putting those men in cuffs; men who had the blood of so many on their hands.

He remembered seeing Rebecca for the first time, pale and slight, but green eyes defiant as she confirmed to her father that she was the reason he was going down. She had betrayed him and made sure he couldn't ever hurt anyone ever again and Clint had felt nothing but admiration for the brave teen who had lost everything that day.

She'd gone on to be one of the better Agents in S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd come across many of her mission reports and been impressed by her work. She'd been a great profiler, adequate tracker and more than capable in combat situations. He remembered emailing her when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell and suggesting she become a P.I. when he knew other government agencies would shun her due to her family connections.

And now the old man was free, and Clint had no doubt there would be revenge on his mind. With a grunt, Clint rose from the computer chair, grabbed his go bag and headed for the garage.

"Jarvis?" He called to the A.I. who ran point over Stark Tower.

"Yes, Agent Barton?" The computerized British accent always threw him a little when it spoke to him.

"Inform the others I'm taking a day trip to D.C. There's something I gotta do for Fury." Clint entered the elevator and hit the button for the lower levels containing the garage.

"Of course, Agent Barton."

* * *

Pete Wisdom left the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport in a foul mood spurred on by his craving for a cigarette. He'd forgotten how uptight Americans were about smoking. Oh, they'd stuff themselves with greasy fried foods, pesticides, and other chemical preservatives. But smoking cigarettes? Big taboo.

"Wankers." He muttered under his breath, pulling out his crumpled, preferred pack of Embassy's and lit up. When the nicotine hit his system he felt his mood improving as he took in his surroundings.

D.C. was an active city during the day. Like New York, everyone had a destination and was determined to get to it. The tourists were more easy to spot because they didn't fall into the rapid-fire pace. They lingered at restaurants and monuments, while the locals barely took a pause in getting from point A to point B.

He'd have to find a crappy motel somewhere, so he'd have a place to crash for a couple of days. He'd surveil his mark, learn her routine and habits, then make his plan. He'd have to do it quietly and quickly, be back on a flight to London before his presence in the city was discovered. In studying her file he knew she had formidable allies and he did not want to pop up on their radar.

No one who worked for any government agency truly believed S.H.I.E.L.D. was dead.

* * *

When Sam finally awoke from his drunken sleep and got through the worst of the hangover with aspirin, coffee, and greasy food, he and Steve left Rebecca to her own devices while they headed back to his place. Since Rebecca hadn't suffered from her alcohol intake as much as Sam had, she headed out for work instead. There were a couple suspected cheating husbands close by she could follow and hopefully she could catch them red-handed, close those cases and get paid.

When she caught one on camera headed into a hotel with his tongue down his secretary's throat, she was both disgusted at the man's behavior but pleased she could call it a day on that particular case. The other two she'd checked out into the afternoon hours had finished their business days and gone home, she was happy to note.

She swung by her office to back up the photos on the computer she kept there, left herself a note to call her client in the morning and headed home. She was debating texting Sam to see if he and Steve wanted dinner when she noticed her apartment door was unlocked.

Instantly on alert, she tucked her phone back into her pocket, making sure her ringer was off and silently set her briefcase down by the door. She removed her favored Beretta from the holster at her hip, it's weight comfortable in her hands and nudged the door open, easing into the apartment.

"You're out of milk."

Rebecca lowered the gun and sighed when she recognized Clint Barton sitting on her couch. "Way to give a girl a heart attack."

"I was making sure you hadn't gone soft since becoming a P.I. and all." Clint shrugged, not a trace of regret on his face. She was still too much of a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent to even be annoyed at his deliberate test.

"Becoming a P.I. was your suggestion." She reminded him, holstering her weapon and reaching back out into the hall to grab her bag. "If you're looking for Cap, he's with Sam."

"I'm not here for him." Hawkeye rose to his feet, setting down the glass he'd been using. "I'm here to see you."

"Me?" She blinked in surprise. "For what? Assessing the contents of my fridge?"

He smirked a little at her joke, then shook his head, his expression turning grim. "I got an encrypted message from Agent Hill this morning, Kid, you might want to sit down for this."

Rebecca felt the shift in his mood like someone would feel a change in the weather. It was like the air became thicker, compressing the room into something smaller. This must be something big, and something bad if he'd come all the way here to see her and it was coming directly from Hill, which meant it was an order from Nick Fury.

Wordlessly, she dropped into the second-hand lazy boy chair that was adjacent to her couch and looked up at Hawkeye, bracing herself for whatever he was about to say.

"I had Nat do some research during my ride here cause I knew you'd want answers," Clint also sat back down, looking her directly in the eye. "A few weeks ago, the CIA decided Declan O'Riley was no longer a valuable source of information and ordered his removal from Bright Light."

Rebecca sucked in a sharp breath at the sound of her father's name. Already, her stomach began to fill with dread.

"He was supposed to be remanded to Portlaoise Prison." Clint named the only maximum-security prison in Ireland, which subsequently housed a large number of convicted IRA members. "Somehow word got out he was being moved and the IRA knew of it. They seized his transport two days ago and killed the guards accompanying him. He's in the wind, Beck."

Rebecca felt simultaneously hot and cold; like her temperature had gone up with a fever but also like someone had run ice cubes over her skin. The sensation lasted for a long moment, and internally she screamed in rage before the numbness set in. It never boded well to get emotional about her father, he was best dealt with cold detachment.

"My father is free? And back with the IRA?" Though she knew Clint was telling the truth, she asked for clarification anyway. Hoping against hope that maybe she had misheard him.

Those hopes were dashed when he nodded grimly. "I'm sorry, Kid. I know this isn't what you want to hear but I needed to tell you because-"

"He's going to come after me." She finished his sentence for him. "Wouldn't be the first time. Though it'll be easier for him now than it had been when he was imprisoned. He has all his IRA resources at his fingertips again."

"We're going to find him. He's on borrowed time. You know Fury won't just let him go." Clint tilted his head thoughtfully. "Not that I don't think you can take care of yourself, but if you wanted, I'm sure we could make room for you at Stark Tower until he's captured."

Rebecca immediately dismissed his offer, despite the thoughtfulness of it. "I've never run from him before. I'm not going to start now." She shook her head. "He needs to be caught, and fast. I'm not the only one in danger if he's free."

"We'll get him, Kid." Barton's voice was steady and reassuring. "Just be vigilant until he's caught. You've got a lot of people who are fond of you."

"Thanks, Clint," She smiled ruefully. "Let's just get the bastard."

* * *

Though she'd offered Clint her spare room, he'd left about an hour after he'd dropped his bomb on her. He'd done a security check on her apartment and when he was satisfied all doors and windows were locked and had her promise to be armed at all times, he'd chosen to return to New York.

Rebecca chose to deal with the news of her father's escape by not thinking about it. If she allowed herself to obsess over Declan O'Riley she'd have to address all the Daddy issues that she'd worked so hard to put behind her. If he came after her, which she knew he would, Declan O'Riley was not a forgiving man, even when it came to his own daughter, she'd deal with it then.

Instead, she spent the new two hours buried in the Winter Soldier case. She picked up where her last lead had gone cold, doubled back, cross-referenced with the new HYDRA base locations Hill had sent her a while back and narrowed her search. She ignored her ringing cell phone, skipped dinner and sent encrypted emails to several sources in Europe asking for any news or new leads.

She was going to let Bucky Barnes distract her to the point where her father didn't even make her radar.

It was Nora who got back to her first, through an email with a grainy photograph attached. She could take the woman out of S.H.I.E.L.D. but the hacker in her would never completely retire.

_Beck,_

_Please be careful. I know you're not going after this guy directly but I worry about you anyway. He scares the crap out of me. This photo was taken a week ago, looks like he's in Brooklyn. Again, please be careful._

_Love Always, _

_Nora_

Rebecca enlarged the photograph and studied the man walking by a popular coffee shop. The photo was taken from the shop's security footage and pixelated the further she enlarged it. He wore dark clothing, with the collar of his jacket turned up and his face turned down. Chin length, dark hair was scraped back and shoved under a ball cap. It could have been any man at first glance, but in the gap of his left coat sleeve and glove, metallic silver glinted in the sunlight.

Rebecca sat back away from the screen of her laptop and sighed. There were no guarantees Bucky would still be in New York, but she knew as soon as she forwarded this information to Steve, he'd be on the first plane, train or automobile back to the Big Apple.

She had hoped he'd stick around a little longer, but it couldn't be helped. Bucky was Steve's number one priority with his Avenger's duties on pause. She straightened up and forwarded the attachment to both Steve and Sam's emails. Then with her duties done for the evening and nothing else to distract herself with, she shut down her laptop and prepared for a long night of brooding.

* * *

"I've dispatched my best assassin to D.C." Michelle Scicluna's saccharinely sweet voice came over the line of the cell phone Declan O'Riley pressed to his ear. "It'll be done within the week."

"I appreciate your efficiency as always, Michelle," Declan took a drag from a cigarette and exhaled menthol tinged smoke. "Blood traitors must pay in blood after all."

"Wisdom has never returned failing any wetwork I've assigned him. I see this as no different, especially since your daughter no longer has the protection of S.H.I.E.L.D." Scicluna sounded confident. "I will inform you once it's done."

Declan murmured a cursory goodbye and hung up the phone, meeting the gaze of Seamus as he did so. "You disagree with my methods?"

"No," Seamus shook his head. "Rebecca betrayed us all, that cannot go unpunished. I just wish you'd let me see to it for you."

"You've always carried animosity toward my daughter, Seamus," Declan mused thoughtfully. "Why is that?"

"She was a spoiled lark, Sir. Always trying to shirk her guards, turning her nose up at the lot of us in the house. Then she tried to snog that Gallagher boy and gave me a snit fit when I stopped her. Like a right banshee, she was that day." Seamus rolled his eyes. "She had no business dating a git whose parents supported the Republic."

_Still sour she never snogged you,_ Declan realized was more accurate and the thought amused him. His daughter had always been a more fanciful sort. She'd have never gone for a brutish bully like Seamus. Seamus, who wore his pride like a badge of honor, must have been vexed when he learned his fancy wasn't reciprocated.

While normally Declan would try to accommodate such a loyal soldier, killing Rebecca would have to be done quickly and discreetly. Seamus was too close, it was too personal. He could wind up being sloppy. Declan would be the number one suspect in her murder, of course, so soon after his escape, but with the Black Air carrying out the hit, they would be hard-pressed to actually prove it was him. Like S.H.I.E.L.D. the agency Rebecca had pledged her allegiance to, the Black Air knew how to cover their tracks.

"You just keep your focus on our search, Seamus," Declan told him. "We're going to find her."

* * *

**A/N: Apologies for the delay. Life tends to cut back on my writing time and unfortunately, I've been going through a rough time recently. My depression has been trying to drag me down and I let myself fall into a slump the past two months. I'm determined to get out of it though. Focusing on Rebecca and Steve's story helps. I can't promise weekly updates but I'll try to be more frequent with them. Thanks for sticking with me! **


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four: Bonds of Friendship**

Like Rebecca had predicted, Steve had hightailed it back to New York the moment he'd read her email. His only regret is that he hadn't been able to thank her and say goodbye in person. But he knew she'd understand, just as she understood how important finding Bucky was to him. She'd known that from the day she'd agreed to help him.

He didn't return to Stark Tower right away. If there had been progress in the search for Loki's missing scepter he would have already been contacted. Instead, he'd gone straight to Brooklyn, practically haunting the streets of his old neighborhood, though a lot of it was unrecognizable now.

When Steve had lived there in the 1940s it had been a mostly white neighborhood surrounding the tiny, dingy apartment he had shared with his mother. Most of his neighbors had been the working middle class. These days Brooklyn was the most populous borough in New York, the neighborhood had evolved and was a lot more ethnically diverse.

Brooklyn had gone through a renaissance of sorts. Housing prices had increased dramatically and it had become a hub for hipsters, High technology startup firms, entrepreneurship, and postmodern art and design.

It baffled Steve every time he would drop in for a visit. He wondered if it had baffled Bucky too when he could barely recognize the streets where they'd grown up. Perhaps that was why Steve hadn't found him among the million faces he passed in the streets. There was nothing familiar here so he'd moved on.

Though Steve had known the chances of finding Bucky a week after he'd been spotted were slim. Still, he had to try.

Dejected after spending over twenty-four hours searching, Steve returned to Stark Tower in order to shower, eat and regroup. He'd touch base with Rebecca and Sam too, perhaps they'd found more and hadn't had the chance to tell him yet.

"Good Evening Captain Rogers," The British accent of Jarvis, Tony's AI, greeted him after he'd gone through the security protocol to gain access to the building. "Welcome back."

"Jarvis." Steve stepped inside the elevator, setting his go-bag on the floor at his feet. "Captain's Quarters."

"Certainly." Without further ado, the glass door slid shut and the elevator began to ascend.

Steve shared an entire floor with Hawkeye and Natasha when they resided at the tower. His third of the floor was three times the size of the apartment he'd rented in Washington and ten times the size of what he'd shared with his mother. It still boggled his mind having that much open space all to himself after having gone from that dingy apartment to soldier barracks, and even the studio apartment he'd stayed in when he'd first come out of the ice. They all were closets compared to the setup Tony had provided for them.

Clint was coming out of his own lodgings when Steve stepped off the elevator. Hawkeye was one of the most elite Agents to ever work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and rarely ever let his facial expressions react to a situation. The upward quirk of his brows when his gaze landed on Steve was akin to a regular person's gasp of shock.

"Something wrong, Clint?" Steve asked amiably since it didn't seem Barton was displeased to see him.

"Nah Cap," Clint shook his head. "Just surprised to see you back in New York so soon, considering." He trailed off.

"Got a new lead on a personal case, went cold though," Steve informed him. "Besides, I hadn't planned on staying in D.C. for too long. We still need to find that scepter."

"I know but with Callahan's situation and no new developments on the scepter I figured you'd stay in D.C." Clint shrugged. "I could have followed up on that lead for you if you needed it."

Something about the way Clint referenced Rebecca had a feeling of trepidation dancing up Steve's spine. Instantly alert, he frowned at Barton. "What situation? What's wrong with Rebecca?"

Understanding dawned in Clint's hazel eyes. "She didn't tell you?" Though it was posed as a question, the way he said it came out like a statement. "No wonder you chased a lead back here."

"Tell me what?" Steve felt his patience begin to wane. If something was wrong with Rebecca he wanted to know. No, he needed to know, he needed to help.

Clint's sharp hazel eyes met Steve's cerulean blue. "Her father escaped custody a few days ago, Steve. He's in the wind. And we have every reason to believe he's coming for her."

* * *

Pete Wisdom liked Rebecca Callahan. It was an uncomfortable feeling since she was his mark, but the more he surveyed her, the more he admired cool, efficient brunette. He liked how she moved with fluid purpose through busy D.C. crowds. He liked how she would chat with the Barista who made her coffee at his cart mid-mornings. He liked that she spared change to the homeless man loitering near her office. He liked that she went for runs in the early evening, then either went home to make herself dinner or would grab takeout while she staked out some client's cheating spouse.

In the three days he'd spent watching her, Pete began to wonder what made her tick. She was polite and kind to anyone that crossed her path, but only seemed to have one good friend in an African American man around her age. She must have a sixth sense about being watched because she went through locking her apartment down before turning in for the night and would glance over her shoulder during the day to look for well, him though she wasn't looking for him specifically.

"Buggering hell," Pete muttered to himself while drawing on a cigarette. He could see her in the apartment living room, settled on the couch with the TV on through her front window. Her hair was down a rarity since every other time he'd seen her it had been in a no-nonsense braid or a sleek ponytail.

She'd wrapped up several cases that day. He'd finished getting the layout of her building that morning and had come back late when he had the cover of night.

And though it pained him to do it, when she turned in for the night, he'd have to kill her.

* * *

The angry snarl of the Harley Davidson Street 350 engine cut through the night as Steve hurtled down Interstate 95 South. Stepping on the gas, he felt the motorcycle surge forward in a burst of speed while he weaved around slower moving traffic. He'd traveled this same route North nearly forty-eight hours ago with the same sense of urgency, a need to find Bucky. Now he was spurred on with a need to protect.

He couldn't believe Rebecca hadn't told him. He'd thought they were becoming close friends. And though it would have pained him to send Natasha looking for Bucky in Brooklyn instead, he never would have left D.C. if he'd known her father was in the wind. Especially not when Declan O'Riley had sent assassins after her in the past. He wouldn't have left her to deal with this alone.

Clint was certain O'Riley would come after her again, after all, she was the reason he'd spent over a decade behind bars. Blood or not, child or not, Declan suffered no betrayals and he would want to make Rebecca pay for turning on him. Steve would not let that happen.

Rebecca had risked everything to help him take down HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. before she even knew him. He would protect her for that alone, but it was more than that now. She continued to help him in his search for Bucky, she let him crash at her place the other night instead of having him cart Sam home. The more he got to know her, the more he liked her. And she was beautiful. He'd already admitted to himself that he was attracted to her, but now, knowing someone could snuff the life out of her at any second? It filled him with a kind of panic he hadn't felt in a long time.

It wasn't the same as the fear he felt whenever he and the rest of the Avengers were in combat situations. It was the heart-stopping kind he'd felt when he'd seen Peggy that day, firing on a car barreling toward her at full speed or Bucky hanging desperately to the broken bar on the train. It was the kind of fear that came when he thought he was about to lose someone he truly cared about because they were facing it alone.

He wasn't just attracted to Rebecca. He wanted her in a way he hadn't wanted anyone since Peggy. He was getting a second chance, to do things right, to be happy. He wasn't going to miss out again because her horrible father was carrying a vendetta.

And when this was done. He was going to get that dance.

* * *

Rebecca clicked off the television before yet another Law and Order SVU episode began. She liked SVU well enough, but it had been a long day, and she'd seen enough. She stretched her arms up over her head and yawned.

She thought briefly of texting Sam, who had scored himself another date tonight, this time with a girl he'd bumped into at Starbucks yesterday, then nixed the idea. If Sam had needed a save him phone call, he would have texted her by now. If the date was going well, she didn't want to interrupt him. At least one of them should be out enjoying themselves.

She wondered if Steve made any headway in Brooklyn searching for Bucky, but again, he would have let her or Sam know if he had. She shouldn't bother him unless it was important. Steve had plenty of other things to keep him occupied if he hadn't found Bucky, as far as she knew the scepter was still missing and after what had happened in New York, that weapon in the wrong hands had the potential to be catastrophic.

With a sigh, she rose up from the couch and turned off the lamp on the end table. She detoured her journey to the bedroom just long enough to check the locks on her front door and bay window before turning in.

She went into the adjoining bathroom and began her nightly routine. She washed her face of make-up and then added moisturizer. She set her long dark hair in a loose braid and brushed her teeth. Satisfied, she turned off the light and started for her bed.

She was just reaching for her covers to turn down when the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She caught the scent of menthol and cigarettes just before she pivoted sharply to the right to avoid the blow meant for her skull.

She brought her forearm up to block the next strike and got her first impression of her attacker. He was taller than she was by a good six inches and had a lean, muscled build that allowed him to be agile. His hair was dark, in poor lighting, she couldn't be certain if it was brown or black, nor could she tell his eye color.

He came at her with quick fists, putting her immediately on the defensive. Taking a punch from him would knock the wind from her lungs if it hit the body, and possibly unconscious if he hit her face. She dodged another punch and countered into a spin kick that connected with his side and she heard him grunt as he stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance.

"My father sent someone semi-competent for once." Rebecca mused, this time when he struck out, she latched onto his arm like she'd learned in Jui Jitsu, using his own momentum against him and bringing them both to the floor in an attempt at an armbar.

"Bloody hell, they taught you well in S.H.I.E.L.D." Her attacker was still physically stronger than she was and they both struggled on her floor, knocking into her bedside table with a crash, her lamp shattering into pieces.

He tried to force her down, but Rebecca countered his move by using her legs to stop him with a triangle choke. She cursed herself for not having her weapon closer for easy access. Of all times not to have her Beretta within reach.

"I didn't want to have to do this Luv, but-" His hands grew warm where they hit her sides and seconds later white-hot pain lanced through her skin and she screamed in surprise and agony.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as blood began to seep from the wounds he'd inflicted and she came to the terrifying realization that her assassin was more than human. He was some kind of hybrid or mutant.

"I'm sorry, but orders are orders." He sounded genuinely regretful as his hands when for her throat. She tried to push back against his wrists and suck in air as he attempted to asphyxiate her.

This was it. Her father would have his vengeance after all. She was going to die alone in her apartment, strangled to death and-

"REBECCA!"

Suddenly her Assassin's hands disappeared from around her throat and he was no longer in her line of vision. She heard muffled curses and the sound of fists meeting flesh and turned her head to see a taller, stronger figure giving her assailant hell.

"Steve," Her voice was shaky when she caught her savior's face, right before he kicked his opponent square in the chest, hard enough to send him careening backward, breaking the glass of her bedroom window as he fell two stories to the street below.

"Rebecca!" Steve whirled toward her, falling to his knees at her side. "Can you stand? Are you-" His blue eyes fell on the blood coming from ten deep lacerations, five on each side of her waist.

"You came back?" She said dumbly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Of course I did." Steve slid his arm under her knees and another behind her back before he lifted her off the ground. "I'm going to get you help. Just keep breathing, okay? I've got you."

* * *

Captain Bloody America! Every bone in Pete's body felt broken as he limped away from the assault scene. He could already hear the sirens in the distance. He and Rebecca had made a good amount of noise before the Captain had kicked in the door and sent him through a bloody window! At least one of her neighbors had called the cops and he was not going to be found at the scene. That would really cap of his piss poor failure of a night.

It had been bad enough when he realized the woman could really fight and he'd been forced to use his hot knives on her. But her back up was the Star-Spangled Avenger! This had NOT been in the file he was sent.

Pete supposed he was lucky he wasn't dead, considering the fall. Or arrested after being thwarted by the leader of the Avengers. He supposed Red White and Blue had been too concerned about the woman to see what happened to Wisdom after he'd gone through her window. He'd been so busy struggling with Callahan, the Captain had caught him completely off guard. She had known he was there despite his complete stealth and had been ready to defend herself. She'd even mentioned something about her father, but he'd been too busy going back and forth with her to think about the information.

There'd been nothing about her parentage in her file. That could be worth looking into.

He was starting to be glad he'd failed. He hadn't wanted to kill her in the first place. One he hated violence against women, two he'd grown to like her during his surveillance and three, he had to respect a woman who could hold her own with a man who outweighed her by a hundred pounds.

Scicluna was going to get an earful from him. And he planned to do some background research on this situation. It had been fishy from the start, but now, with Captain America coming to her rescue, something really seemed off about this whole assignment.

* * *

Sam had just dropped his date, Sarah, off at her apartment when his phone rang. It was nearly midnight and when he saw Steve Rogers name on Caller ID his heart rate sped up. Steve would only be calling this late with an emergency.

"What's wrong, Cap?" Sam began to jog down the stairs, not even bothering to waste time with the elevators.

"I'm at George Washington University Hospital." Steve's voice was anxious. "It's Rebecca. She was attacked tonight."

"What?!" Now Sam was running, borderline sprinting out of the apartment building to get back to his car. His stomach dropped and his blood had gone cold with fear. "What happened?"

"She didn't tell you either?" Steve groaned, sounding incredibly frustrated. "Her father escaped custody. He sent an assassin after her. I only just got there in time."

Sam almost stopped breathing. Rebecca had told him once, after things had settled and they'd become closer, about her colorful past. Knowing what kind of man her father was and that he was free, made his skin crawl.

"Why didn't she tell me?" Sam unlocked his car and jumped in the driver's seat. He couldn't believe Beck wouldn't tell him. They were friends, she could have come to him with this.

"She didn't tell anyone. I never would have gone to New York if I'd known." Steve replied tersely. "I should have been here."

"I was here and didn't know." Sam reminded him, already in route for the hospital. "She probably thought she was protecting us in some twisted way of hers. It's not like she'd ever had people to depend on before."

"Well, she's the one who needed protecting tonight." Steve exhaled in exasperation. "She needs to learn to lean on us. Because I'm helping her through this whether she likes it or not."

"You and me both, Cap."


End file.
